A Proposal to Remember

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘Stop staring, McKenna.’ She gave him a frosty stare. ‘I’m not one of your bimbos.’

  He gave her a maddening grin, water dripping from his dark hair onto his wet suit. ‘You’ve got good legs, Riggs. Always have had. But fortunately for both of us the rest of you is questionable so I’m able to resist you. I prefer my women gentle and cuddly.’

  ‘You prefer your women brainless.’

  He reached for a towel which he’d slung over the back of a chair in readiness for his return. “‘Soft” is the word I’d choose. Soft and yielding. You’re more like a cactus. A man could get injured touching you.’

  ‘If you touched me then you’d definitely be injured.’ She angled her head and shot him a warning glance. ‘And if being a cactus keeps you away, that’s fine by me.’ Feeling unaccountably warm under his lazy gaze, she glared at him. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here.’

  He wandered back into the house and returned with a cold beer. ‘I know why you’re here.’ He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply, the muscles in his throat working as he swallowed. ‘You find me irresistible. Don’t worry about it. Women often do. You’ll learn to live with the feeling.’

  Anna glanced down at the beach below them. ‘Just how far is the drop from here?’

  He gave an appreciative grin and set the beer down on the table. ‘Far enough. Why?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Do you want to give it a go?’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Don’t tempt me, McKenna. If you have any concern for your safety, you’ll drink that beer somewhere else.’

  His grin widened. ‘Trouble is, this is my home, Riggs, and you’re the one sitting on my deck.’

  ‘It’s your parents’ deck. And, believe me, I wouldn’t be here unless there was a crisis.’

  ‘My parents love having you. You’re like a daughter to them.’ He reached for the beer again. ‘So what’s the crisis?’

  She bit her lip. She hated even saying the words. Hadn’t got used to the idea herself yet. ‘My house purchase has fallen through.’

  He frowned. ‘You sold your flat? What was wrong with it?’

  ‘I wanted something bigger. Somewhere nearer the sea.’

  ‘Yeah. You always did dream about that. Living virtually on the sand. Another one of your plans.’ His eyes narrowed and he glanced at the view from his parents’ deck. ‘And maybe I don’t blame you for that. I have to admit, it doesn’t get much better than this.’

  ‘It’s a perfect spot,’ Anna agreed, ‘so why are you in London?’

  He lifted the beer to his lips. ‘Because there’s more to life than a good view and a swim in the surf, Riggs. So where was the house? The one that you were hoping to buy?’

  ‘Tub’s Creek.’

  ‘Old Jack Lawson’s place?’

  Anna nodded. Of course Sam would remember. He’d been brought up here, just like her. ‘He died six months ago. Had a massive heart attack just after Christmas.’

  ‘Not surprised with all the smoking, eating and drinking he usually did.’ Sam gave a rueful smile. ‘I think we can safely say that he lived life to the full. What was wrong with the cottage? Subsidence?’

  Anna’s jaw fell. ‘How do you know?’

  He shrugged. ‘Common sense. It was pretty old and the windows were wonky. Had to be something.’

  Anna sighed. ‘I thought wonky windows gave a place character.’

  ‘And major structural problems,’ Sam said dryly. ‘So now you’re homeless.’

  ‘I completed on the flat two weeks ago. It was that or lose the sale. I was expecting to exchange and complete in two weeks. It never occurred to me that there’d be a problem that I couldn’t cope with. I was ready to buy it regardless.’

  Sam shrugged broad shoulders. ‘So buy it.’

  ‘With what?’ Anna shot him an impatient look. ‘I need a mortgage and unfortunately people don’t lend you money on wrecks.’

  ‘Find somewhere new. Somewhere with straight windows.’

  ‘Given the fact your father has landed me with a dud locum, I won’t have the time to trawl estate agents. I’ll rent for now.’

  He ignored the dig and lifted an eyebrow. ‘Rent? You’re kidding. How do you expect to find somewhere to rent at this time of year? Every inch of available bed space is already let out to tourists. You wouldn’t even find a stable.’

  ‘All right, well, I’ll sleep in the surgery if I have to,’ she said irritably, and he yawned.

  ‘Why would you need to? You can sleep here as far as I’m concerned. With six bedrooms, the house is big enough for both of us. You’ll just have to try and resist me.’

  ‘Believe me, no house would ever be big enough for both of us. Your ego takes up too much space.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck.’ He finished the beer. ‘I’m trying to be generous and giving here. If you’re going to argue, you can sleep on the damned beach.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Something that she couldn’t identify made her suddenly need to apologise. She ran a hand through her hair which had dried sleek and straight. It fell past her shoulders, halfway down her back. ‘I’m just disappointed about the house. Worried about your dad. Anxious about the practice.’

  Unsettled.

  ‘Scared about the future.’ Sam’s gaze fixed on hers. ‘Safe Anna. Careful Anna. Anna the planner. So ballsy on the outside but on the inside you crave security.’

  She bit her lip, hating the fact that he knew her so well.

  ‘Spare me the amateur psychology. Anyway, what’s wrong with planning? And what’s wrong with enjoying life and wanting it to stay the same?’

  ‘Nothing. But think what you could be missing.’

  She frowned. ‘There’s nothing missing in my life.’

  ‘Apart from a social life.’

  ‘I have a perfectly satisfactory social life, thank you.’

  He leaned against the balcony, the wet suit lovingly displaying every muscular curve of his body. ‘Bingo on a Friday, lobster night at the Dog and Duck. The beach barbecue. Take-away seafood from Hilda’s Kitchen. Wow.’

  ‘Never underestimate Hilda’s seafood.’ Anna clamped her jaw shut to prevent herself from rising to the bait. It was true that her social life was pathetically limited but that was as much because she was exhausted all the time as to lack of opportunity. By the time she finished work all she had the energy for was a date with a good book. But that was fine for now. She was busy establishing herself as a GP. Time for the rest later. It was all part of her life plan.

  She leaned back in her chair and pretended to enjoy the view. ‘At least my social life doesn’t make the newspapers. Face it, McKenna, you just can’t settle down with one woman, can you?’

  Every time she saw a picture of him, he had a different woman on his arm. Usually blonde. Usually extremely curvaceous. None of them looked like the marrying type.

  ‘Why would I want to?’

  ‘Your mother is waiting for grandchildren.’

  He threw his head back and laughed, a rich masculine sound that triggered an answering feminine response deep inside her. ‘I hope she’s a slow knitter.’

  Suddenly Anna found herself noticing the tiny creases around his eyes and the way his jaw flexed when he smiled.

  Disturbed by such unusually intimate observations, she rose to her feet and walked towards the house. His voice stopped her in the doorway.

  ‘So, what are we eating tonight, Riggs?’

  She turned back to face him, one brow arched in question. ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Perhaps because you’ve been living here for a few weeks? Presumably you’ve filled the fridge? Planned a few meals? Surprise me.’

  She smiled sweetly. ‘You’ve been reading fairy tales again. I’m not Little Red Riding Hood and you’re every bit as capable of making a meal as I am. Probably more. You know where the fridge is, McKenna. If you want to eat, eat. Don’t involve me in it.’

  She hated to cook, even for herself. There was no way she’d be
cooking for Sam. Unless she was aiming to poison him.

  ‘Well, presumably you have to eat at some point, too.’

  She leaned against the door-frame, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her legs long and lightly tanned. ‘I don’t see why my eating habits are of any interest to you.’

  ‘It’s just that if you’re cooking, it’s as easy to cook for two as one.’

  ‘If you’re hoping I’m going to cook for you then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.’

  Those blue eyes flashed a challenge. ‘Eating is supposed to be an opportunity for social interaction between people.’

  ‘People who like each other, McKenna. We don’t. All the more reason for us to eat alone.’

  He straightened up, his body lithe and powerful, stretching his shoulders to relieve the tension. ‘All right. You never did quite have the woman thing sorted. So it looks as though I’m cooking.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Despite her vow not to rise to the bait, she couldn’t stay silent. ‘I’ve had enough of your digs for one night. What do you mean, I never did quite have the woman thing sorted?’

  He hooked the empty beer bottle with his finger, his movements slow and casual. ‘You just don’t do woman stuff, do you? Never have.’

  ‘Woman stuff? What woman stuff? You want me to dress in pink?’

  He grinned. ‘Can’t see you in pink somehow.’

  She made a mental note to buy something pink at the earliest opportunity. ‘So what exactly do you mean?’

  He shrugged. ‘You don’t cook. You don’t play house. You just don’t do girly stuff.’

  Girly stuff?

  Annoyed that he’d managed to make her feel inadequate, she glared at him. ‘I have a full-time job, McKenna. And I eat perfectly healthy food—’

  ‘Sandwiches.’

  ‘I happen to like sandwiches. And I have a cleaner to do the house stuff. Or at least I did before I sold my flat. What you really mean is that you don’t want a woman with an opinion.’

  ‘An opinion?’ He laughed. ‘You’ve got so many opinions, honey, that talking to you is like negotiating an obstacle course.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake.’ She frowned in irritation. ‘It’ll be a treat for you to hang around with someone who isn’t a bimbo for a while. If you get really lucky I might talk to you from time to time about something other than facials and pedicures. And don’t call me honey. It’s completely demeaning and it winds me up.’

  ‘That’s why I do it.’ He smiled smugly and strolled past her towards the kitchen. ‘All right, this once I’ll cook for you. But don’t get used to it. If we’re going to live together, you’ll have to contribute. If you like, you can wash my socks.’

  ‘Shame the camera isn’t running,’ Anna said tartly. ‘I would have liked my response to that suggestion recorded for the nation’s entertainment. And talking of cameras, if you’re seriously going to stay and try and make this thing work, we need to talk.’

  ‘More ground rules?’

  ‘Just a few observations about the way things are going to be. I’ll dump these journals in my room and I’ll meet you in the kitchen. We can go through a few things.’

  ‘Will you be wearing black leather and carrying a whip? I love it when you’re dominating.’ He unzipped the neck of his wet suit and Anna felt her breath catch and something slow and dangerous un-curl low in her pelvis.

  Damn. Immediately she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, cursing her female hormones.

  How could you react to a man that you didn’t even like?

  She of all people, who was so much more interested in the human mind than the human body.

  She dumped the magazines on the bed with an impatient sigh. Unfortunately for her, Sam had an incredible body. And he knew it. But fortunately for her, she didn’t like the man. So she was safe.

  She sucked in a breath, gathered her thoughts back on track and mentally sketched out a few plans for how they could work together most efficiently. How they could work together with minimum contact.

  When she marched into the kitchen fifteen minutes later she was armed with a notepad and determination not to let him unsettle her otherwise perfectly ordered life.

  Despite the fact that she’d been quick, he’d already showered and changed and was dressed in a pair of cut-off jeans and a T-shirt which clung lovingly to the muscles of his broad shoulders. He was standing at the granite work surface, chopping vegetables with the speed and skill of a surgeon. For a moment she stood still, fascinated by those long, strong fingers and his sure touch.

  Then she pulled herself together, dropped onto the nearest kitchen chair and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. ‘It’s hot.’

  ‘Yeah—stuffy. Good night for skinny-dipping.’

  Anna sighed. ‘Will you ever grow up?’

  ‘If growing up means coming down here with a notepad and an official expression then I sincerely hope not.’ He tossed slices of spring onion and ginger into a wok and waited while they sizzled. ‘OK, Captain Riggs. Let’s have it. Outline the plan of attack.’

  Just being in the same room as him made her temper sizzle.

  ‘You can mock all you like.’ Her hair fell forward, brushing the table. ‘But how do you think we’re ever going to work together and deliver a reasonable standard of care for our patients if we don’t do some planning?’

  He added chicken to the wok. ‘Do you plan with Dad?’

  ‘We’d have meetings, yes.’ She tapped her pen on the pad. ‘But he and I have worked together for a long time. We know each other.’

  Sam lowered the heat. ‘We know each other, too, Riggs.’

  ‘Too well.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He glanced towards her. ‘Or maybe we’ll both get some surprises. Life does that to you sometimes. Just when you think you’ve got it all worked out, the unexpected happens.’

  He could say that again.

  ‘You coming back to Cornwall is certainly unexpected,’ she agreed, frowning as he handed her a glass. ‘What’s this?’

  ‘An extremely good Sancerre. Excellent for hot weather and it will go well with my stir-fry. It might also soften your mood.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my mood.’

  He shot her a look. ‘Just try it.’

  She did and had to stop herself moaning out loud with sheer pleasure. It was cool and sharp and the alcohol oozed into her tired bones with immediate effect.

  ‘It’s good.’

  ‘A lot of the things I do are good, Riggs. You ought to try a few more of them.’

  She ignored the dig, set the glass down on the table and picked up the pen. ‘I thought I could start by running you through some of the clinics that we do. You can tell me what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want you working outside your comfort zone.’

  ‘You’re questioning my abilities as a doctor again, Riggs.’ He scraped the pan viciously to loosen the stir-fry. ‘And it’s only fair to tell you that it really ticks me off.’

  She cursed men and their egos.

  ‘You’re being ridiculously sensitive,’ she said stiffly. ‘You haven’t worked as a proper doctor for so long it’s only natural that there are going to be areas that you’re less experienced in. Obstetrics, for example. We have a ridiculous number of teenage pregnancies here. And emergencies. You know how far it is to the local hospital and how many accidents we get on the beach every day in the summer. Our surgeries are crammed with them.’

  ‘You should run an emergency surgery for the tourists. It would save them traipsing miles to the hospital or filling up surgery time with minor accidents. I’ve suggested it to Dad before.’

  So had she, on numerous occasions, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.

  ‘What we do now works perfectly well.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe. And maybe it would work even better if you designated some time to doing an emergency surgery. You should have done it ages ago.’

  He was completel
y right. ‘We’ll end up encouraging the tourists to come and see us with every bump and bruise.’

  ‘That’s my father talking.’ His gaze flickered to hers, challenging. ‘You don’t really believe that.’

  It was completely true. She didn’t believe that. She thought it was a great idea. Always had. ‘We’ll see. It’s only the start of the summer.’

  ‘Fine. But it’s the best plan.’

  Anna frowned and tapped her pen on the pad. ‘Let’s look at practicalities. What this job is going to mean for you. It must be a while since you stitched a patient.’

  ‘I think if I rack my brains it will all come back to me. I don’t need tuition.’ He lifted the wok and divided the contents between two plates. ‘Here. Stop organising for one minute and eat.’

  ‘Organisation is what keeps this show running.’ But Anna pushed the pad to one side and reached for her wine. ‘So when did you learn to cook?’

  He handed her a plate piled high with food and a fork. ‘I learned to cook when I decided that I liked eating decent food.’

  ‘I’m surprised you don’t just call on one of your women to cook whenever you’re hungry.’ She picked up her fork and stabbed some chicken and vegetables. ‘Isn’t that what primitive caveman is supposed to do?’

  ‘This particular caveman can find plenty of other occupations for his women.’ His eyes glittered slightly as he surveyed her over the rim of his glass. ‘I don’t want them wasting their energy in the kitchen.’

  ‘You’re a complete Neanderthal.’ She felt the colour rise in her face and hated herself for being so sensitive to his comments. Particularly as she knew they were designed to wind her up. ‘And I still think you should brush up on your emergency medicine.’

  He topped up his glass. ‘If we ran an emergency clinic it would make great television. The type of medical problems you’re likely to encounter on your average beach holiday.’

  ‘Oh, now I see why you’re so keen to do it. Real-life casualties for your programme.’ She twirled noodles around her fork. ‘A bit of blood and gore will lift your image no end. Dr Handsome doesn’t just know about ingrowing toenails—he can even save lives.’